nude oil painting

He duly summoned me to his presence in the evening. I had
prepared an occupation for him; for I was determined not to spend
the whole time in a tete-a-tete conversation. I remembered his fine
voice; I knew he liked to sing- good singers generally do. I was no
vocalist myself, and, in his fastidious judgment, no musician, either;
but I delighted in listening when the performance was good. No
sooner had twilight, that hour of romance, began to lower her blue and
starry banner over the lattice, than I rose, opened the piano, and
entreated him, for the love of heaven, to give me a song. He said I
was a capricious witch, and that he would rather sing another time;
but I averred that no time was like the present.
'Did I like his voice?' he asked.
'Very much.' I was not fond of pampering that susceptible vanity of
his; but for once, and from motives of expediency, I would e'en soothe
and stimulate it.
'Then, Jane, you must play the accompaniment.'
'Very well, sir, I will try.'
I did try, but was presently swept off the stool and denominated 'a
little bungler.' Being pushed unceremoniously to one side- which was
precisely what I wished- he usurped my place, and proceeded to